


Stozier One-Shots

by missvega



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot Collection, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Self-Harm, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missvega/pseuds/missvega
Summary: A place for me to write stozier without having to worry about plotTags/warnings will be added as more one shots are added. The rating may change in the future.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 13
Kudos: 129





	1. Nicknames

“I told you to stop calling me that. How would you like it if I called you Dick?”

“I’d be honored that you’d want to talk about my dick, Staniel.” Richie’s lopsided smile only grew more, but quickly shifted into a slight pout when Stan pinched his arm and he feigned actual pain.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that, right?”

“But I’m your asshole.” It took Richie a moment before his brain caught up to what left his mouth. “Wait,” he mumbled. Stan stifled a giggle and failed, barking out laughter. Richie joined him, his laugh as loud and obnoxious as him. Each time one of the started to calm down, they would take one look at each other and start laughing harder than before, to the point where tears began to form in Stan’s eyes and Richie’s sides started to ache.

It was stupid and childish and immature but they didn’t care. To them, it was the funniest thing in the world. Of course, there would be another “funniest thing in the world,” -- that’s what happens when two best friends spend time together -- and they would drain themselves of their energy by laughing for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes. It was so overwhelmingly them that they didn’t care if other people didn’t get their obscure inside jokes or looked at them strangely when they spent a moment too long laughing at something they shouldn’t be.

Richie took a few deep and shaky breaths, trying his best to compose himself. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing the tears across his cheeks. Holding them by the bridge -- which was broken by Henry and his lackeys a few weeks ago and was currently being held together by duct tape -- he slid his glasses back into place, and the world came back into focus. Stan was still laughing, though the fits became smaller and more manageable, and Richie couldn't help but stare in awe.

It's not that Stan didn't laugh, because he did, but he was usually more in control of his actions. Richie took pride in whenever he made Stan laugh, not just giggle or smirk, but an actual, authentic laugh. When his body shakes and he wheezes a little and he lets himself go. It was in this moment of admiring the flush of red spread across Stan's face that the words left Richie's mouth.

"I love you." His voice was soft and he hoped Stan didn't hear. Sure, Richie has told all the losers that he loves them and he did, but this was different. This was a different love.  
But Stan did hear. He heard Richie's words with such clarity that it echoed around his mind, repeating them over and over again until they were burned into Stan's entire being.

"I love you too." Stan looked into Richie's eyes, and Richie felt like crying. There was so much to Stan behind his facade and Richie loved the fact that he was the one that Stan trusted enough to act like himself. Stan didn't have to pretend to be anything around Richie. He just needed to be himself. The corners of Stan's mouth curled up. "Chee."

Richie groaned. "Oh my god. Do not call me that." Stan laughed again, bringing his hand up to his mouth to try and cover his laugh.

And Richie thought that maybe, just maybe, he could put up with 'Chee.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to comment prompts if you want!
> 
> find me on tumblr @kespbrek!


	2. Fair Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie helps Stan study

"Ughhh," Stan groaned and dragged his hand down his face. "Why don't I get this?!"

Richie gently patted his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. This stuff is pretty complicated."

"But _ you _ get it!" Stan's eyes were wide as he gestured towards Richie. "You weren't even paying attention during class!" Richie opened his mouth to defend himself, but he was effectively shushed by Stan holding up his finger. "Rich, I saw you sleeping."

"To be fair," Richie paused to readjust his glasses, "I was tired."

"That's not an excuse to sleep through every lesson."

"_ Maybe _ you don't get this stuff because you're too busy _ watching _ me." A wicked smile broke across Richie's face. Stan felt his cheeks flush and he darted his gaze away from Richie to look at his hands in his lap.

"I didn't- I-I wasn't…" Stan sputtered out. The truth was, he didn't _ not _ look at Richie during the classes they had together. Stan usually sat near the front and Richie always sat in the back of the class. Except for their physics class. Richie made one too many jokes and Mr. Small got pissed and moved Richie to the front -- one row up and two seats over from Stan's spot. Richie was constantly moving and fidgeting, so Stan couldn't help but get his attention pulled away from the teacher. He heard a chuckle and he quickly looked back at Richie.

"Dude, it's okay." Stan let out a sigh of relief. "I know I'm irresistible." Richie winked and his lopsided grin grew wider. Stan pushed him slightly.

"Can we get back to the homework now?" He really wanted to change the subject.

"Sure, but when you ace this exam, you owe me."

Stan stared at the other boy for a while, taken aback. It wasn't the first time Richie helped him study, but Richie never _ asked _ for anything in return. When Richie's face didn't break out into his usual 'I'm totally joking' smile, Stan rolled his eyes and agreed.

"Yeah, fine, whatever. What do you want?" Stan thought he would want money for some comic book or for the arcade.

The corners of Richie's mouth twitched upwards for a brief moment, before his serious expression set it again.

"I think a kiss is a fair trade."

_ He's joking, haha classic Richie… right? _ Stan faltered for a moment, before playing along.

"_ If _ I pass this exam," Stan corrected. "But if you want it, you actually have to help me."

Mr. Smith slammed Stan's test face down on his desk and Stan mumbled a 'thank you.'

Hesitantly, he turned it over. '_ 88% good job' _ was sloppily written in bright red pen. Stan scowled a little at the smudges of ink that tainted the otherwise clean paper. He quickly looked at the problems he got wrong -- not that Mr. Smith actually corrected them -- and slid the exam into his folder. He was putting it back into its place in his binder when he heard a whistle.

Stan looked up to see Richie and his big, goofy smile. He was holding up his test and pointing at the score. _ 96% _.

“Mr. Tozier, unless you have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class, pay attention.” Richie dramatically rolled his eyes, but turned to face their teacher. He had told Stan a few weeks ago that if he got another detention, he’d get grounded for ‘his _ whole life _’. Stan knew his parents were disappointed when Richie got in trouble, but he also knew that they wouldn’t do that. It was just Richie being Richie, over the top and making things more dramatic than they ever were.

  
  


"Stan the Man!" Stan was about to turn around when he felt a body hurtled against him, an arm slung around his neck.

"Hey, Rich." He pretended to be was annoyed, but he never was. Richie might be loud and inappropriate, but he meant well. Most of the time.

"So govna'? How'd you do?"

"That is by _ far _ the worst accent I've ever heard," Stan laughed.

"Oh whatever." Richie waved a hand dismissively. "Did ya pass?" He still had his arm around Stan's neck and he pulled him a little closer.

"Maybe." A small smile appeared on Stan's face. "Depends on what counts as passing." Richie stared at him through his thick glasses, his big eyes magnified even more. Stan had to stop himself from grabbing them and cleaning a spot. He always had a cloth in one of his pockets, despite the fact that he didn't wear glasses. "88. I passed," Stan sighed.

Richie let out a loud 'whoop' and accidentally knocked their heads together. He rubbed the spot on his head where he hit, mumbling a small apology. He was quiet for a moment after that, watching Stan continue what he was doing before Richie attacked him.

Stan was carefully taking textbooks and binders out of his backpack and placing them neatly in his locker. Physics was their last class and Richie always found Stan at his locker so they could ride their bikes back to their houses. Everything about Stan was _ neat _ and Richie didn’t understand how he could have the energy to keep everything clean. He noticed Stan zipping up his backpack.

“Ready, Freddy?” Stan nodded and they made their way to the back side of the school, where they locked their bikes.

The ride home was mostly uneventful. Richie almost ran straight into a telephone pole, not paying attention and instead focusing on zig-zagging as fast as he could across the street. Stan made them stop once because he could’ve _ sworn _ he saw a cerulean warbler. Richie slowed down in front of Stan’s house, eventually stopping once Stan caught up to him.

“See ya later, Rich.” Stan dismounted his bike, choosing to walk it up the driveway and into the garage.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Richie called up to him.

“Oh right. What do you want?”

“I told you.”

“What do you _ actually _ want?” Stan reached into his pockets, trying to fish out his weekly allowance. He didn’t notice that Richie walked up to him, standing about a foot away.

“I’m serious.” Richie was drumming his fingers against his thigh, one of his nervous ticks that Stan had learned to watch for. He licked his lips before a nervous smile briefly crossed his face. “I want a kiss.”

Stan opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, let alone _ do _ . _ What the hell _, he thought to himself before he grabbed the back of Richie’s neck with a hand and closed the distance between them. It was a short kiss, lasting maybe a handful of seconds. It was an awkward kiss, neither of the boys really knowing what to do. But it was also a good kiss, because it was them.

Stan pulled away, stepping back to look at Richie’s face. He looked stunned for a moment before his classic shit-eating grin took its place.

“Let me know if you need any more help studying. It’d be my _ pleasure _ to assist.” Richie winked and practically ran to his bike. Stan watched him as he rode down the street, a little more wobbly than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to comment prompts if you want!
> 
> find me on tumblr @kespbrek!


	3. (NSFW) Touching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i guess i wanted to write stan having anxiety about sex
> 
> (not completely nsfw but better safe then sorry)

Richie’s fingers were tangled in Stan’s curls, slight tugs of caramel as he moved his hand to cup the back on the boy’s neck. He felt the chill of Stan’s hands as they ghosted over his stomach, creating goosebumps across Richie’s body. The heat beginning to rush down toward his crotch contrasted with the cold sent a shiver down his spine. Stan hummed against his lips, too busy tasting cigarette smoke and the faded sweetness of bubblegum in Richie’s mouth.

“Nothin’” Richie mumbled, breaking the kiss to move his lips along the corner of Stan’s lips. “Just a chill.” He placed gentle pecks down the other boy’s jaw, following the curve of his neck. Richie carefully started unbuttoning Stan’s collar, lips still connected to his skin. Stan let out a sigh, the warmth getting mixed in Richie’s hair, and he placed a hand against the flatness of Richie’s stomach, the faint trail of hair tickling his palm. Richie pushed the fabric away from Stan’s collarbone enough to latch his mouth onto it, gently sucking on the skin where the neck and shoulder meet. Stan gasped when Richie bit lightly and he could feel the smirk of the other boy’s lips against his skin.

“Rich…” Stan breathed out, resulting in a hum from Richie, before he lifted his head to look at Stan.

“You alright?” He placed his hands on Stan’s shoulder, his eyes wide and a little unfocused without his thick glasses.

“Yeah, just-” Stan started, forcing himself to pull his gaze away from Richie’s swollen and red lips, instead choosing to focus on his hands underneath his shirt. “Can we- I think I want to-”

“You sure?” Stan nodded slightly, still avoiding Richie’s eyes. The other boy moved one of his hands, tilting Stan’s chin up, gently rubbing his thumb against his jaw. “You know I can’t see shit. Use your words.” His voice and laugh were soft, so uncharacteristic of him that Stan was silent for another moment. He leaned forward to kiss Richie, this one not as hungry as the other ones.

“Yes. I’m sure.” (He wasn’t.) Richie’s face broke into a lopsided smile at Stan’s words, and he grabbed the other boy’s hand, fingers intertwining. He pulled his boyfriend up the stairs, leading him to his bedroom, and quickly shutting the door behind them.

Richie didn’t let go of Stan’s hand and used it to his advantage, pinning him against the door. He immediately placed his mouth on Stan’s neck again, sucking and biting at the smooth skin. Stan melted into Richie’s touch, tilting his head to the side to allow Richie more access. He inhaled sharply when the other boy bit harder than Stan expected.

“Sorry,” he felt Richie mumble against his neck, his breath hot and wet. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Shut up.”

“Yessir. Anything else I can do for you?” Stan was about to point out how that wasn’t _ shutting up _, but decided against it, opting to go a different route.

“Take your shirt off.” Richie pulled away from Stan’s neck, letting go of his hand, and took a few steps back. Stan chewed his lip as he watched him pull his shirt off in one swift motion. Richie crumpled the shirt, throwing it off to the side to be found some other day.

“Like what you see?” Richie waggled his eyebrows and tried to flex muscles he didn’t have and Stan laughed at the sight. (But that’s what Richie wanted.) His laugh was airy and Richie could _ see _ the tension leave Stan’s body.

“Something like that.” Stan placed his hands on Richie’s hips and slowly dragged his hands up and down his sides, feeling the warm skin. Richie breathed out a chuckle and kissed him -- slow and soft. There was no rush, no _ hunger _ behind it; just affection and adoration.

Until Richie bit Stan’s lower lip, pulling slightly, shifting the mood back to what it was. Richie broke the kiss to walk backwards and took Stan’s hand to lead him. He smirked when he felt the bed frame on the back of his calves, and fell backwards, pulling Stan with him.

Stan caught himself, with his arms on either side of Richie’s head, their faces and bodies inches apart. Stan tensed for a moment, not expecting to be moved so quickly, but he relaxed seeing the soft look of concern in Richie’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” Stan whispered before leaning down to close the gap, slowly working their mouths together. Richie dragged his tongue along Stan’s lips, prompting him to open his mouth. Richie reached up to grab the other boy’s ass and pulled him down to grind against his dick. Stan yelps against Richie’s mouth, the sound muffled. Richie’s holds his hands on Stan’s hips, firm enough to keep Stan grounded, but light enough to allow Stan to pull back.

“Good?” Richie mumbled. He moved his lips along Stan’s jaw again, catching his breath a little.

“Good.” Stan moved his hips hesitantly, not quite being able to recreate the movement. “Show me.” He felt a small puff of warm air against his neck as Richie let out a laugh. Richie gently pushed the other boy’s hips down to guide him, his grip tightening from the pleasure building up.

“_ Holy shit _,” Richie breathed out. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to keep himself in control. “Stan, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Richie…” He opened his eyes and noticed Stan stopped his movements, his eyes wide.

“What? What happened?” Richie sat up, helping Stan move with him.

“I’m sorry.” The words were thick and choked out. “I- I can’t.” Richie had been around Stan long enough to recognize the panic attack starting to set in. The way Stan’s eyes frantically moved around the room, the way he hunched his shoulders, the way his fingers began twitching and moving sporadically.

“It’s okay,” Richie pulled him close to him, Stan’s head resting against his chest, as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out again.

“I know. But there’s no reason to be, okay?” Richie moved far enough away to look Stan in the eye. Stan nodded, the movement barely noticeable. “It’s okay.”

They sat like that for a while, Richie holding onto Stan like Stan would disappear if he didn’t keep him close, and Stan hugging Richie like Richie was the only thing keeping Stan here. Stan shifted under Richie’s weight, feeling calm enough to move.

“Can we watch a movie?” His voice cracked.

“Only if I get to pick.” Richie’s signature smile spread across his face, and just like that, everything was okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to comment prompts if you want!
> 
> find me on tumblr @kespbrek!


	4. I Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie gets a concerning call from Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes self harm. Please practice self care and avoid this chapter if this is something that can trigger you.
> 
> Spoiler if you need it: everyone is okay in the end.

“Tozier household, Richard speaking.” Richie straightened his back and tried his best to sound like a posh receptionist. There was silence on the other end. “ _ Hellooo _ . Anyone there?” Nothing. Richie was about to place the phone back on it's stand before he heard a sob. A sob that wrecks through your whole body and leaves you shaking and crying worse than before.

“Rich–” Richie’s face fell, his usual lopsided grin immediately being replaced with a look of worry.

“Stan?” He breathed out. “What’s wrong?” More silence greeted Richie, his heart rate climbing up a never ending peak.

“Don’t… don’t be mad.” The words were broken by his sobs.

“Stan, what are you talking about? Why would I be mad?” A nervous smile washed over his face and a breathy chuckle left his mouth. He hated this feeling.

“I-I tried…” Richie cut him off before he could continue.

“I’m coming over.” He slammed the phone down harder than he meant to, but he ran through his front door, not bothering to get on his bike – it would only slow him down. Stan didn’t live too far away so he could keep up his brutal pace. His sides were burning and he felt like his heart was in his throat but he couldn’t stop. He had to get to Stan.

Skidding to a halt in front of Stan's house, Richie lifted up the welcome mat to reach the spare key. He hated using it most of the time, a pang of guilt always ran through his body. He felt like he was intruding. Not that his whole personality was different, all he does is intrude, but this is  _ Stan _ and Stan trusts him with the key and should he be doing this?

Richie shook the thought out of his head, remembering the way Stan sounded on the phone. His hands were shaking as he fit the key into the lock and turned it, slowly opening the door.

"Stan?" He called into the seemingly empty house. Without thinking, Richie slipped his shoes off, a habit that he got into thanks to the Urises. "Stan, where are you?"

No answer.

Richie climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, intending to go to Stan's room when he heard crying in the hallway bathroom. He slowed down, stopping in front of the door and using his knuckles to slightly tap on the wood.

"Stan? You in there?" The crying stopped. Richie faltered for a moment before he tested the door knob. It moved with his hand.

"Stan, I sure hope you're dressed or else this might get awkward." He tried to joke, tried to make the situation less  _ scary _ .

Richie wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door but he sure as hell didn't expect to see Stan sitting on the tiled floor, leaning against the tub for support, dark crimson blood gushing from his forearms. Stan, who was watching his life force drain from his body, looked up when Richie entered the room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Jesus Christ, Stan!" Richie grabbed towels that were hanging on the hooks and rushed to Stan's side. His hands were trembling as he tried to apply as much pressure as he could without hurting Stan. " _ Holy fuck _ ."

Richie knew this was too much, knew that he had no idea what to do, knew that he needed help with this.

"Stan, look at me– Stan." The other boy met Richie's eyes, his lips quivering. "I'm not mad, okay? I promise I'm not. But I need you to hold onto these towels. Can you do that?" Stan nodded weakly as another fat tear rolled down his face. Richie looked around for the phone that Stan used to call him, and found it laying discarded on the counter.

His fingers trembled as he hit the buttons, placing it between his shoulder and head so he could go back to helping Stan.

A soothing voice broke through the ringing.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My boyfriend is fucking bleeding all over the place and I don't–"

"Sir, you need to calm down. Where are you?"

Richie didn't notice his own tears start to fall until one landed on his arm. He told the person what he could and she assured him that help was on the way.

"If you stay on the line–" Richie hung up, turning his attention back to Stanley.

Richie refused to move when the EMTs arrived, forcing them to pick him up and get him out of the way. He screamed when they took Stan away.  _ Begged _ them to let him go with him. But he was left on the driveway of Stan's house.

He stood there for a moment, mind going faster than he could keep up with, before he rushed back to his house, praying at least one of parents would be home.

They finally let Richie see Stan. He's been in the waiting room, picking at a loose string on the chair cushions for what seems like months. He knocks on the door gently again, but he hears a soft and raspy "come in."

Stan looks tired. So, so tired. But a small smile pulls at his lips when he sees Richie, before it immediately falls.

"Richie–" he starts, pausing once the name leaves his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to– I didn't mean to…" Richie moves next to the bed, waiting for Stan to nod before he sits on the edge.

"Shh." Richie soothes. "Its okay." He takes one of Stan's hands, trying not to notice the thick bandages that now cover his forearm, and places a soft kiss on his knuckles. "Thank you for calling me." More tears rolled down Stan's face as he opened his mouth to say something,  _ anything _ , but the lump in his throat is too heavy, too thick, and he settles for nodding.

A silence encompasses them, neither knowing what to say, or more accurately,  _ how _ to say it.

"I love you," Stan manages to croak out.

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing for a bit! And sorry this is what I come back with
> 
> feel free to comment prompts if you want!
> 
> find me on tumblr @kespbrek!


End file.
